


your skin feels like home (electric shocks on aching bones)

by autumn_storms_and_coffee_rings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arc Reactor Issues, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumn_storms_and_coffee_rings/pseuds/autumn_storms_and_coffee_rings
Summary: “Steve, uh, how big are your hands?”A choking noise sputters through the intercom.“Shit - Sorry. That came out wrong.  Not an innuendo.  But I do need to know.”...His scars on the surface were evident, but the scars under the surface were more difficult to see, more difficult to reconcile with his carefully crafted facade.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 390





	your skin feels like home (electric shocks on aching bones)

“Steve, uh, how big are your hands?”

A choking noise sputters through the intercom. 

“Shit - Sorry. That came out wrong. Not an innuendo. But I do need to know.”

“Tony -”

“Just come to the ‘shop. Please.”

This time the response comes in the form of a long-suffering sigh cut short by JARVIS.

“Sir, I still think it advisable to seek professional medical assistance for this procedure.”

Tony scoffs. “Whatever. Pep and I managed, right? It went _fine_. Only minor cardiac arrest. Besides, waiting kinda isn’t an option.”

JARVIS remains mute, the silence heavy with disapproval. 

Tony’s eyes narrow. Not exactly a vote of confidence. 

He waits for Steve in an uneasy silence, trying to stem the rising tide of panic, trying to reconcile the warring parts of himself.

The part that overwhelms with want, with longing for nearness, with desperate need for a gentle touch. 

The part that knows it’s safer to keep the world at arm’s length. 

A blessing in disguise. A terrible privilege. A second chance to do this right. He’s tried looking at the arc reactor through every available rose colored lens. But at times like this, it’s challenging. All it does is bring on waves of guilt and panic and self-loathing. 

His life is a complex array of vivid snapshots, an often damning account of his transgressions. The snapshots provide a stark contrast of befores and afters. Before Afghanistan, his life was a series of lessons in cold-hearted self-reliance. A man without conviction finding salvation in mistakes made with reckless abandon. After Afghanistan, his life was a series of lessons in helplessness. A man with conviction navigating a new life on shifting sands, trying to find purchase, trying to do good. 

The reactor had rendered Tony dependent in a way that made his skin crawl. 

The thought of placing himself in someone else’s hands after Afghanistan, after Obie, after New York, _after, after, after_. Tony forces himself to take deep breaths, an effort cut short by a full body shudder. 

His scars on the surface were evident, but the scars under the surface were more difficult to see, more difficult to reconcile with his carefully crafted facade. 

It was difficult enough to ask Pepper for help when she was all he had. When they were together. He probably - no - he _definitely_ asked too much of her. He shouldn’t ask anyone to take his life in their hands. Especially not quite so literally. 

He thought about asking her again, but it felt too intimate now that they’re no longer together. Besides, it doesn’t really seem like a favor you can ask of someone more than once. Also - she’d kill him. She asked him to not make her do it again. And he did promise. And he was fairly certain that no number of meetings attended without fuss or Louboutin heels would persuade her otherwise. 

He reflectively taps his fingers on the reactor cover and winces. 

He’s been over the list of people he knows and trusts countless times. Admittedly, it wasn’t a long list. Happy isn’t paid nearly enough. Rhodey is gallivanting around the Middle East on Air Force business (no, he did not hack into the U.S. Military server out of curiosity). Thor is a rather large and overeager bull in a china shop. He’d rather die than allow someone who thinks archery is viable weaponry in the twenty-first century to touch him, so that rules out Clint. Bruce might Hulk-out from the stress. Nat would be great, but she’s off doing super not-so-secret (no, he did not hack into the SHIELD server out of spite) spy stuff. 

And so, Tony settled on asking Steve for help. Tony likes to think he reached this decision in a calm and mature fashion. JARVIS begs to differ, and has the video recording of Tony’s sheer panic to prove it. 

It’s humiliating to even need to ask someone for help. Tony huffs and shakes his head, working to clear away the aversion to reaching out that was ingrained in him. Asking for help is okay. Asking for help is reasonable. Asking for help is something a well-adjusted human is allowed to do. 

Okay, fine. There is nothing remotely well-adjusted about him, Tony thinks as a smile laced with chagrin passes over his lips. 

Howard was rolling his grave. An engineering problem that his son couldn’t solve. But then again, dear old Dad never had a gaping hole in his chest. Scratch that. He did. But it was metaphorical. 

So that leaves Steve. And trusting Steve. Tony grimaces. Not an ideal way to spend a Saturday night. Reopening wounds and exposing his vulnerability. Handing Steve his literal and figurative heart. Which is not at all ideal because Tony has gathered data through extremely sound scientific methods and is approximately eighty-four percent sure that Steve despises him. Which is also not ideal since Tony is recklessly smitten. But can he trust Steve? His foolish heart beats with an insistent _yes_ , while his mind supplies him with the barbs exchanged on the helicarrier:

_Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?_

_I know guys with none of that worth ten of you._

_The only thing you really fight for is yourself._

_You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play._

_You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero._

_A hero? Like you? You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!_

Even though their relationship had drastically improved, could he trust Steve? What if Steve hadn’t truly forgiven Tony for his vitriol? Tony wouldn’t blame him; he still hadn’t forgiven himself. What if those gut instincts about Tony resurfaced when Steve was wrist-deep in Tony’s heart? 

Well, medically speaking. Steve has already wedged his way into Tony’s heart. 

Which opens another can of worms that Tony is definitely never examining. 

Steve breezes into the workshop moments later, a look of consternation written plainly across his face. 

“Tony, what on earth -” Steve cuts himself off as he stops dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him. 

Tony is lounging in a chair, wires threading up under his tight black t-shirt. Monitors are stationed up near his shoulders with thin, neon lines bouncing up and down in short sharp patterns. _Heart rate_ , Steve’s mind supplies. 

“Hey, Cap. Thanks for coming,” Tony says, trying for nonchalance in spite of the rising tide of panic threatening to erode his defenses. 

Steve gives a terse nod, still taking in the wires and beeping monitors. 

“Well? Lemme see ‘em.”

Startling, Steve pries his eyes away from the science fiction scene in front of him and sheepishly lifts his hands, unsure of how to display them. 

Tony cocks his head to the side in contemplation, “Hmm...They’ll do.” Clapping his hands together once in a nervous gesture of bravado, he queries, “Right. Remind me - What do you know about the arc reactor?”

“It powers the suit,” Steve parrots, still not entirely sure of the mechanics behind the brilliant blue circle in the center of Tony’s chest.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Ready for a crash course on what else it does?” 

Steve grimaces. “Um. Can you explain it in English?” 

Tony stares at Steve. Arching an eyebrow, he snaps, “Steve. If I could teach you how to use a microwave and a StarkTablet, then I can teach you this.”

Shit. That came out all wrong. It was harried, harsh. Tony can practically feel JARVIS cringe. _Stop being an asshole. Stop pushing people away_ . 

To Tony’s surprise, Steve offers no rebuttal save for a small smile. 

“Sorry. So, um, right. Time for show and tell.”

Tony’s fingers grip the edge of his shirt, ready to pull it off, but they hesitate, stilling at the hem. Tony chews on his bottom lip, anxiety coming in waves.

A monitor gives a new and insistent beep and a light in the corner begins to blink red.

Hazarding a quick glance at the screen, Tony rushes, “Um, short version for now. Long version later. I owe you that much. It powers the suit, yep. But it -,” Tony cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he says, “It also, uh, okay, yeah, in English. It also acts as a magnet. Keeps shrapnel from piercing my heart.”

Tony peeks at Steve, and watches as a series of inextricable emotions cloud his face.

“A piece was, um, damaged during our recent mission. When I took that hit to the chest? Yeah.”

Steve’s brows knit tightly together before he launches into one of their careworn squabbles. “Tony, why didn’t you say -” 

“ _Nope_ ,” Tony interjects, throwing his hands into the air, “I know what you’re gonna say and -”

“We’ve been over this before, Tony -”

“ - I didn’t say anything because nothing was broken! Or bleeding! I’m fine, so -

“But clearly you aren’t fine!”

“- Just calm down, Cap. I didn’t find out about the extent of the damage till later. Had to run some diagnostics and -”

“Tony, if something is wrong, you’ve gotta let us know! You act like you’re expendable and you’re n-”

Another insistent beep from the monitor cuts Steve short.

“Can we do this another time, Cap?” 

Jaw tensing, Steve clamps his mouth shut with great effort and nods. 

“Look, I...I need help removing and replacing the damaged piece,” Tony rushes out in hushed tones, letting a rare glimpse of vulnerability breach his defenses, “I - I can’t do it by myself. Trust me - if I could, I would.” 

“Sure, Tony. I’ll help. Might cost you, though.”

Tony snorts. “Whatever it is you want, I can afford it. Hopefully it will be some jeans, because I can’t with you in those old man khakis.” 

Steve allows himself a quick half smirk before settling into a resolute stance. The steady gaze of cerulean eyes steadies Tony slightly. 

Tony closes his eyes, willing himself forward. “So, um, I hope you have a strong stomach, Cap. There are a lot scars. Sorry.” He yanks his shirt off in one deft motion, tossing it to the side of his work table. 

The brilliant blue of the reactor casts shadows over the hills and valleys of Tony’s scars. Most were centered around it - thin, faded scars from the shrapnel and longer scars from the initial surgery. But a few, fresher scars found homes on his shoulders, on his torso. 

Steve stares. 

And Tony has never felt more self-conscious in his life. Great. It was one thing to know the scars exist, to live that reality every day. It was a whole other thing to have a perfectly sculpted, unblemished super-soldier repulsed by the map of every mistake etched onto his body. 

Tony makes a mental checklist of everything he forgot to tell Pepper and needs to tell Steve _before_ the procedure. 

“I’ll skip the mechanics of how everything works. Kinda dull, anyway. So, uh, one of the wires under the main component is dislodged. And frayed. And a little fried. It’s gotta be replaced so the whole thing can keep working. I’ll pop out the core and you stick your hand down in there. You should be able to feel a wire loop,” Tony pauses, giving Steve a stern look. “You will - I can’t stress this enough - _gently_ lift the wire out. Try not to let it touch the wall or it’ll give me a little shock. Doesn’t feel great. OH, and also don’t pull on the wire so hard that the magnetic base comes out with it. Here, take this,” Tony hands Steve a round wire with a tiny magnet on the end. “Plop this new one in as quickly as you can. It’s basically just a transfer. Out with the old, in with the new.”

Steve eyes the new wire in his one hand and moves towards Tony. His fingers hesitate over the reactor. Tony says a silent prayer to whatever god that may still indulge him that Steve is not panicking. 

“Um. Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“What if - What happens if I mess up?” 

Steve is panicking. Shit. Steve’s eyes are blown wide, a deep crease between his eyebrows. Not a trace of Captain America exists in the question; this is Steve, nervous and unsure. 

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do?”

“Eh, probably minor cardiac arrest. Happens every so often. It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing!”

The monitors are beeping and flashing red incessantly. Tony will never be able to explain what seizes him in that moment - whether it was panic or insanity or a pathological need to flirt with crush - but he reaches out and takes Steve’s free hand. Giving it a squeeze, Tony musters the courage to look directly into those brilliant blue eyes: “It’ll be alright. I trust you.”

Steve flushes, fingers squeezing back. With one more look at Tony and a quick peek at the monitors while Tony pops out the core, he takes a huge breath and slowly lowers his hand into Tony’s chest cavity.

Trying to remain collected is thrown out the window. Tony’s eyes widen and his fingers drum nervously on the arm rests. _Keep breathing, Stark_. 

With nimble fingers, Steve eases out the damaged wire, taking care to not pull too hard. He is the epitome of concentration with his eyes honed in and a tiny bit of pink tongue sticking out between his lips. 

Unsure of what to do with the damaged component, Steve opted for holding onto it in one hand while slowly lowering the new component into the metal cavity with the other. 

But not slowly enough. 

Tony jolts, yelping involuntarily as a sudden electric current courses through him. Steve’s brows knit together, looking more in pain than Tony. He mutters, “Sorry! I’m sorry,” while doing his best not to break his concentration. 

The new wire finds the magnet with a satisfying _plink!_ and a steady _beat beat beat_ replaces the frenetic flashes and beeps from the monitors. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Tony gives the monitors a cursory glance. “Everything good, J?”

“Your vitals are holding steady, Sir.” JARVIS’ dry response is laced with disapproval. Tony rolls his eyes while peeling off the electrodes. The AI must still be miffed about not calling an actual doctor. Whatever. This went better than it did with Pepper, so it seems like a win. 

Yanking his shirt back on, Tony motions for Steve to follow him to the overstuffed couch in the corner of the workshop, “C’mon. Story time, Cap.”

He plops down on one end of the couch, back leaning against the arm, and looks expectantly at Steve. 

Steve hesitates a few feet away, turning to plop the old reactor component on a table, “Tony, you don’t need to -”

Tony fixes Steve with a quirked eyebrow. “Steve. You were just elbow-deep in my chest. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but still. You deserve to know why.” 

“You know, I’m happy to listen any time, even without the foray into surgery,” Steve says, sinking onto the other end of the couch. 

Tony stares, unsure of what to make of that offer. 

“Um, thanks. So, uh, you know about the kidnapping in Afghanistan, yeah?”

“Just what you’ve told me. And what’s in SHIELD’s file.” 

“Alright. Uh, where to start. Got blown up by my own bomb in Afghanistan. Yep. Ironic, maybe poetic justice. I didn’t know it at the time, but my business partner slash pseudo uncle - Obie Stane - was selling SI weapons to terrorists behind my back. 

“Anyway, the shrapnel tried its damnedest to get into my heart. An Afghan doctor - Yinsen - saved my life. Fished out what he could with the limited resources he had in that cave. Hooked me up to a car battery. I...I was awake for a lot of the surgery. It, uh, worked as a magnet to keep the shrapnel from piercing my heart. Upgraded the arc reactor eventually with his help. I - I owe him my life, in more ways than one,” Tony stares at the floor, and Steve gets the distinct impression that Tony is on the verge of tears. But the moment passes as quickly as it came. Tony pushes forward - ricocheting to the next urgent thought, willing it out into the open, hoping beyond reason that releasing it will quell the anxiety.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m well-versed in my flaws, Steve. The list is long,” Tony huffs. “I was raised to value the profitability of war, humanity be damned. I was raised in front of cameras. Raised to put too much stock into my looks. Playboy reputation to uphold, you know? But I - it’s so damn _hard_ sometimes to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. _Shit._ I know that’s narcissistic as hell. But every time I see them, I just - it hurts. I’m pulled back to those moments. Not that I don’t deserve to be reminded of the magnitude of my mistakes. Sometimes I try, but I can’t see past the scars. I can’t see past the reactor. It’s an unacceptable vulnerability. I can’t - I barely remember what it’s like to be touched or the feeling of being comfortable in my own skin.

“But, uh, I don’t know why I expected Pepper to feel differently if _I_ can’t - if I hate .. ,” Tony presses his palms into his eyes, sighing. “This is TMI, but we didn’t - she, uh, wasn’t interested. Or at least not often. Sometimes we were...intimate, but it usually involved leaving my shirt on. I don’t blame her. It’s a lot. And the Tony that went to Afghanistan and the Tony that came back were two different people. It was hard on her. And nobody wants to look at this,” he gestures at his chest. “Even you stared in disgust. 

“Early versions of the suit weren’t, uh, as durable as they are now. Sometimes pieces caved in on impact. Did a lot of solo missions, obviously - not a team player. Anyway, that’s where the other scars come from, save for a few from ‘shop incidents.” He glares at JARVIS, “Don’t you dare rattle those off, mister. Honestly, they’re just job hazards.”

Steve listens intently with furrowed eyebrows and a small frown. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the events of this evening; Tony wonders if he asked too much, revealed too much. Probably. That’s what he does. All or nothing. A drought or a monsoon. Time to rein it back in, salvage as much of his dignity as he can. 

“So. Any questions, Cap?”

“Tony...I…,” Steve stops, choosing his question carefully. “Why me?”

“Ha, I thought about getting DUM-E to help, but, well…” Steve and Tony watch DUM-E chase a ball on the far side of the workshop that Steve insisted on buying him. Steve looks at Tony sheepishly. 

“The truth is that I trust you, Steve. And that’s monumentally challenging for me. Easier to invent a new element. Putting my life literally into someone else’s hands is excruciating. I was waterboarded in Afghanistan. Was that around in World War II? Was that a thing? Probably. Oh, and Obie paralyzed me with my own invention and ripped the reactor out of my chest. Fun. I know we didn’t get off to the best start. I’m so used to being alone, to going it alone,” he squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment, then turns his full attention on Steve, “but I’m more comfortable around you than I have ever been with anyone.”

A sharp intake of breath from Steve is the only answer. 

_You’ve said too much. Retreat._ “Alright, I, uh, think story-time is over. Thanks for your help, Rogers. You’re free to go back to whatever Capsicles do at night.”

But Steve crawls forward, bridging the gap between them on the couch.

“Please don’t hate me if I’m reading the ‘why’ wrong.”

He leans forward and gently kisses Tony. It’s chaste, sweet, but the electric jolt from the wire earlier cannot hold a candle to the electricity flowing between their lips. 

Tony relaxes into it, willing his never-ending internal monologue to cease and desist. But that never lasts long. He pulls back sharply, and every alarm bell momentarily silenced by the kiss resumes screaming in his mind.

“Steve, I - I can't do this if it’s pity. My heart can’t take it. Gotta heart condition, you know,” he says, trying for a joke, but falling flat with honesty. _Shit_ , Tony berates himself. _You don’t do hope, Stark. You won’t survive it._

“I mean, getting the chance to electrocute me probably only partially makes up for all the times I’ve fought with you over bullshit -”

“Tony -”

“ - Because I’m an asshole and I’m sorry and I’m working on it and -”

“- Tony, don’t do that to yourself -”

“- But this would be cruel. And that’s not something you’re capable of, so -”

When his words fail to stem the flow of panic, Steve reaches out and cups Tony’s cheek in one hand. “Tony. It’s okay. Hey, look at me,” Steve waits until wide, chestnut eyes meet his own. “Yeah, we fight and we argue. But I think that makes us better, makes us see things from different angles. And yeah, sometimes I’ve wanted to throttle you,” Steve grins, shaking his head, “But the times I’ve wanted to do that can never compare to the number of times I’ve wanted to do this.”

Steve presses his lips firmly on Tony’s in a stubborn promise. 

Steve’s capable hands gently trail down Tony’s sides, coming to rest at the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I’d like to take this off, if that’s okay?”

To his surprise and against his better judgment (which, to be fair, is usually found wanting), Tony finds himself nodding.

Steve’s fingers curl around the hem, and he gently lifts it off of Tony, eliciting a tiny shiver from him. Steve tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor of the workshop. 

Nothing is real. Everything is real. Tony can’t shake the bizarre feeling that he’s standing on the edge of a precipice. One more step may lead to disaster. His life tends that way. Hope is too fragile a thing to be held in his hands. He’s never felt more vulnerable, more bold, more terrified, more hopeful than in this moment. 

Steve’s hand gently trails up Tony’s side, settling at its destination on Tony’s cheek. “I was staring at your scars and reactor, Tony. But you’re wrong - it wasn’t because I find them grotesque or repulsive,” his eyes drift to the marred chest below him. “I see them as a map. A map of everything you went through, everything you survived, everything you learned, every act of defiance - so you could be here, now. With the Avengers. With me. I wanna help you see the man I see. I’m sorry you’ve had to carry this weight. I know my body can’t scar anymore, but my mind does, my heart does. So in a small way, I understand. You’re not alone, Tony. I’m here.”

Steve ghosts his hand across Tony’s chest. He takes his time lightly tracing the scars around the reactor before resting his hand over the blue light with reverence. Tony’s breath hitches. He stares up at Steve, filled with wonder, disbelief, and something his obstinate heart insists is akin to love. 

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony breathes. His moves to cover Steve’s hand where it rests over his reactor. “Make me feel it. Make me know it. Help me never doubt it.” 

Steve shifts, sliding his arms around Tony, “Come with me?” 

“Yes,” he blurts, surprising himself by making the most uncomplicated decision of his life. 

Steve’s cheeks deepen to an adorable shade of pink, but he recovers quickly, lifting Tony in his arms, careful not to lose contact, careful not to break the renewed kiss. Tony catches on fast, locking his legs around Steve’s waist. 

JARVIS, the sly bastard, sends the elevator up to the penthouse without waiting for a command. 

\-------------------------------------------

The first thing Tony notices is the chiaroscuro of shadows and flashes of morning light dancing beyond his eyelids. The second thing Tony notices is Steve curled up behind him, sleeping soundly, his fingers grazing the casing of the reactor. The third thing Tony notices is that for once, he is not afraid to hope. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> wow, this second fic was a long time coming! i'm so sorry about that - work has been more exhausting than usual, even before the pandemic (but i assume exhaustion is a normal outcome for an understaffed office).
> 
> this was incredibly self-indulgent: i have a lot of scars. we all do. some of mine are highly visible from surgeries and mistakes. others are harder to see. and i struggle with them. 
> 
> i've often wondered how tony copes with his, and so here we are. 
> 
> the title is from "you're all i have" by snow patrol. 
> 
> feedback is always welcome!


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